On Sugar Mountain

I made a discovery the other day as people were coming out of a fitness center, and I hope for those who follow women's fashions this is not a news flash. Leotards do NOT have buttons on the chest pockets. As a matter of fact, they don't even have pockets.

I've stayed too long at the fair when a person, and not the youngest of persons anymore, can walk by me in an outfit (I just realized leotard is so Fifties, isn't it? I have no idea what the term is now, but I imagine like the evolution in sneaker prices--once we started calling them sport shoes, the cost went through the roof--whatever they're called, it ain't cheap) that seemed to have been spray painted on.

The ensemble was very much a sky blue shade, with the floppy, sloppy socks, sort of like leggings maybe (Women's Wear Daily really should have a desk open for me someplace very soon. Between my perceptions and fashion sense, I'll have a corner office in a matter of weeks) that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It was so snug you could see the undergarments she wasn't wearing. I don't mean to sound sexist and I've always endorsed Grace Slick's philosophy, but we all need to surrender the things of youth when we grow older.

We can always be young at heart--but as a former broadcast buddy, Dave M, used to say, 'because the cat gave birth in the oven doesn't make her kittens biscuits' (and people wonder why George Bush has problems with English? It was obviously NEVER spoken at home) and dressing to get attention doesn't always mean you can control that attention.
Even though you will always see it, you can't be twenty on Sugar Mountain though you're thinking that you're leaving there too soon.
-bill kenny